This year, the games industry has slated more of its key titles for October, games that ordinarily might have been held for launch during the quintessential Christmas season. There are a few reasons for this -- Holiday competition is particularly dense this year, so moving bigger-budget games into less-crowded release windows increases the chance that they'll suffer less competition. Second, publishers can expect more consistent -- and therefore better -- shorter-term revenue results when they spread the wealth, and finally, the moves end up extending the major video game buying season to include both Fall and Winter, not just Christmas.
It will probably prove to be an even wiser move than publishers realized at the time they were planning pipeline and couldn't have foreseen the economic crisis that culminated fairly recently -- cash-strapped customers are more likely to buy one title now and then one title in December than they would be to buy two titles while in line at the mall during Christmas shopping.
For the average consumer, more options, stiffer competition and a wide array of truly great games is nothing but a good thing. But for hardcore fans and culturists, the sort that read this blog (or write it!), I suspect it's actually rather inappropriately stressful.
Plagued by anxiety lately? Do you wonder how you're going to afford all the games you want to buy this year? Does the sight of GameStop's logo make you nervous? Do you feel guilty that you haven't played Dead Space yet? Does the "Fable II or Fallout 3" question keep you up at night? Are you torn whether or not to read coverage of LittleBigPlanet or Midnight Club: Los Angeles, being interested in those titles but knowing you won't be able to join in for a little while yet, either due to an absence of enough money, enough time, or both?
Have you scolded yourself for being so spoiled as to actually lament how much good stuff there is to play? Have you talked to yourself, repeatedly reminding yourself you should be grateful?
Really, to be honest, the avalanche pace of these truly stellar releases is actually making me feel a little clammy and short-of-breath. Anyone else?
I'm both luckier than most of you are -- in that the fact I have to review regularly means I don't have to pay for some of these games -- and unluckier, because my job in general practically requires I stay up on things, which means I feel a swollen and burdensome obligation to play Dead Space, Fable II, Fallout 3 and LittleBigPlanet -- of course, all before Mirror's Edge, Left 4 Dead and Tomb Raider: Underworld get here.
Which gives me about three weeks; yeah right. And, barring one of the above, that doesn't include the games that are on my review slate in the past and coming few weeks, which of course take priority over the games I want to play -- let's not forget, these are all games I very much want to play and have long awaited -- for pleasure and to inform my editorial work.
Most of you here, myself included, either are playing or plan to buy one of the titles I've listed in this blog post. I imagine a much smaller percentage of you will buy and play all of them, at least this year. And that's a little bit unsettling, isn't it? Keeping up has always been intimidating as the price of games climbed ever-higher at retail. And now, it's not just intimidating, it's impossible, at least for those who work, at least for those who want to actually savor and absorb the experience.
It's a strange paradox, isn't it? Analysts and industry execs are citing the high value per dollar of games as compared to other entertainment media as its strength in a weak economy -- in other words, it costs $20 in most places for two people to watch a movie for two hours, but one video game parses out to at least a buck per hour, even less if it's a quality title you can play often, one that you can play online for a new experience every time. There are plenty of folks out there "still" playing CoD4 and Halo 3 online on a regular basis.
But what's it all worth if game enthusiasts feel social pressure to blow through the latest title and move on to the next one? If you can't well savor and explore, say, Fable II for more than a few weeks before you start to feel nervous, like a game-challenged slowpoke, once the internet zeitgeist has moved on to the next big thing?
I wanted to play Silent Hill: Homecoming one more time through so that I could write an analysis of its themes, but that title, much as I loved it, seems to be getting smaller in my rear-view. I also wanted to play BioShock on PS3, to revisit the experience after not thinking about it for a few months and see what that was like. Unfortunately, both of these aims are unlikely. Perhaps I should rebel and spend all of my free time focused exclusively on the copy of Princess Debut that I haven't touched yet.
The cost and quality of games continues to increase as we focus on the long-term value in each game experience -- and yet, I wouldn't be surprised if you could quantifiably chart that the amount of time we're spending with each game is diminishing in direct proportion with the increase in depth and expense.
